Snowball Effect
by acidtowns
Summary: Obsession is a cruel thing; it cages us in and suffocates us. We fight to suppress the urge, the want, the need, but it's only a matter of time before that obsession turns compulsive, and we become the one thing we fear most: ourselves. [HIATUS]
1. Prologue

**Title:** Snowball Effect  
**Warning:** n/a  
**Disclaimer:** what never  
**Notes**: this idea was just haunting me, so i had to write it — and well, here we go. this is not beta-read, but i'm hoping to get a beta soon! if you're interested, please contact me, i will love you forever i swear. but ahah with that aside, i hope you guys enjoy this! and yes, this is incomplete, meaning there will be future chapters. other than that, happy reading? ; u;

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零

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"I guess this is it, huh?"

There was a pause and a flicker of eyelids.

"Yes."

Takao cradled the back of his head and peered up at the orange sky. He chuckled, then laughed, but the supposedly joyous sounds coming from him were dry. Noticing this, he stopped.

Ah ... his heart was hurting.

"When you become a doctor, give me free check ups."

_A doctor_. Midorima wanted to become a doctor, which meant he had to go straight into medical school after graduation. Of course, Takao knew of Midorima's intention before, but he had never really thought about it — until now.

"Like hell I will."

Studying medicine was completely different from what Takao wanted to do; unlike Midorima, he wanted to pursue basketball.

"Don't be stingy."

Takao glanced over at his partner in hopes of seeing his expression distort, but he was disappointed; Midorima remained poised and silent, his eyes never moving from the road in front of them. His lips, however, were pressed into a line, and this alone told Takao that he was deep in thought.

What was he thinking about?

That was one thing he didn't like about Midorima. There were times when he was the easiest person to read; other times, his lack of expression made him appear inhuman.

Midorima's forehead began to crease, and Takao started to process what was going on.

He was thinking of _that_. Considering the current situation and the future, it was now apparent to him what thoughts were being thrown around in Midorima's head. And knowing this only made his chest ache more. He didn't want to hear it. They've only been together for a year, and a year was too short — _much_ too short. _He didn't want to hear it_.

As the burden of these thoughts weighed him down, he slowed to a halt, but Midorima continued walking. With each step, he got farther — and farther — and —

Midorima was always moving ahead and leaving him behind. That was another thing Takao hated about him. He never stopped to wait; he just kept walking, and the farther he was, the harder for him to catch up. For the last three years, Takao had played the chasing game, but now, seeing just how much distance there was in between them, he couldn't play anymore. He had to let go, because he knew he would never catch up; that was the sad truth.

It was funny, though. He had spent three entire years chasing someone he knew for a fact he would not be able to reach — yet, he still tried. Did he regret it? _Hell no_. Despite the ups and downs of their relationship, he was happy. Midorima made him feel wanted, _needed_, and he liked that.

But it had to end here.

Midorima was walking down another path, and if he continued chasing him, he wouldn't be able to pursue basketball. And that was one thing Takao was unwilling to give up.

Swallowing, he bunched his fingers into twin fists and squeezed his eyes shut. "Midorima." _Shin-chan_ marked the days they were together, and since those days would be no more, it was _Midorima_. "Let's break up."

The scrap of shoes against gravel told him that Midorima had stopped walking. His eyes opened to confirm this. Midorima wasn't looking at him, and for a moment, Takao wanted to take back what he had said — but he knew better than that. He didn't want to hear Midorima say it, so he had to say it himself. Even if he took it back, nothing would change; they would still part ways in the end.

"You didn't have to say it," Midorima said, turning around and locking eyes with him.

"Someone had to."

No matter how hard Midorima was trying to suppress it, Takao could see the ever familiar expression slipping away. It first started with the eyes. What once held pride now reflected hurt, and it was a hurt Takao never wanted to be responsible for. Next was the mouth. His lips were no longer pressed together, but rather parted as if he wanted to say something. Then came the eyebrows. Curved toward the center, they illuminated just how destructive words were. Takao had never seen such disappointment.

"Sorry."

The last bit of self-control finally crumbled away, and Takao found himself looking at someone he didn't recognize.

Midorima shifted to turn away but, at the last second, held firm. "I understand."

He wanted Midorima to say more, but he knew him saying more would only jeopardize the fragility of this situation.

"I'll ... see you later, yeah?"

"This is goodbye."

_No_, this wasn't goodbye. He didn't want this to be goodbye.

But how could he be so certain that they would cross paths again? A chance was plausible, but he knew he shouldn't get his hopes up. Midorima was going to a school half-way across the country, after all.

"I suppose it is." Takao let out a breath. "It was nice being your partner."

It surprised him how Midorima could still keep his posture even though his facade had slipped away.

"You as well."

This marked the end of their relationship.

"Goodbye."

Takao offered him a small and — for once — forced smile. Midorima didn't return it.

"Goodbye."

That was the last time he saw Midorima.

— Or so he thought.

Five years later, fate decides to be kind.


	2. Chapter 01

**Warning:** n/a  
**Disclaimer:** hah ahahah haaa  
**Notes:** hello yes i'm back with an update. thank you **akashi4.15kuroko **for beta-reading! and oh, to the anonymous reviewer who offered to beta-read for me: if your offer still stands, feel free to message me! c: other than that, enjoy this chapter ~

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一

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**30 Dec 2012 — Midorima's Reflection**

_My parents were ideal._

_They weren't divorced. They had enough money to support a family ten times our size._

_We never fought._

* * *

**17 Jan 2012 ****—** 14h07 **—** Taiga's Cafe

When Himuro invites him out for lunch to celebrate passing the most recent test, Midorima accepts. By _lunch_, he assumes that they will go to the fast food place down the street from their apartment. This, apparently, isn't so; Himuro takes him to the outskirts of the city, and from there, leads him into a smaller town where a place called "Taiga's Cafe" resides at the corner of the street.

Midorima recognizes the name from somewhere, but he can't exactly place where. As he frustrates himself with figuring where he heard the name Taiga before, Himuro holds the door open for him. Moments later, he's greeted by a familiar face.

He's a man of twenty-three years, give or take. His vibrant red hair appears brighter against the dark undertones, and the generosity of these colors match well with his crimson eyes. But of course, Midorima doesn't clue in on who it is until he notices the eyebrows — the split eyebrows that are so particular that it reminds him immediately who Taiga is.

_Kagami Taiga_. The basketball star. The light that surpassed Aomine's own.

What is he doing in a café, nevertheless owning it?

His question goes unasked as Kagami embraces Himuro. It's a sweet reunion — one that Midorima wishes he can partake in, but pride is still something he cherishes, and with that, he inevitably refuses to engage in any intimate contact with someone he barely knows.

When Kagami finally draws back, he nods once at Midorima, acknowledging him, before leading him and Himuro to a booth at the back of the restaurant. The acuity of his manners shocks Midorima, for he remembers the other as a man of brashness. He doesn't mention this, though, and accepts the menu given to him.

"So, uh, our special —" Kagami clears his throat. "— the special for today is chicken katsu complete with house salad, rice, and —"

While he continues rambling on about a particular dish, Midorima scrutinizes the selections. Some of these are international — French, Italian, Chinese — and to think that Kagami had actually invested his time in this is mind-blowing.

He sets the menu down and strings his fingers together.

"See anything you like?"

Midorima glances from Himuro to Kagami. "Give me a minute."

It's apparent that their relationship hasn't touched maturity yet, since the moment Midorima drops his gaze, he hears Kagami mutter something about him not changing at all. Midorima doesn't bother arguing; he knows well enough that the only thing that _has_ changed is his extensive knowledge of medical procedures.

"You wanna check out the back?"

He lifts his head again and sees Kagami looking at Himuro. Assuming the question isn't directed at him, he turns away, a bit embarrassed. Himuro, on the other hand, accepts the offer, and after promising to be back in a few minutes, leaves with Kagami.

Trying not to let this get to him, Midorima sits back and examines the interior design of the café. Whether or not Kagami chose this way of decorating, Midorima finds himself impressed. The walls are painted a warm shade of crimson and gold, which assaults the light oak-wood furniture. Assortment of floral markings line the edge and sink into the carpet. It's a place of integrity — a place of warmth and steadiness. Midorima likes it more than he should.

He unfolds his hands and turns his attention to the window. Outside, a roughly dressed man passes by on a bicycle; across the street, a young woman appears to be scolding her daughter. There isn't anything significant about what he sees. He himself has rode a bike before, and he's been scolded.

Humanity itself hasn't changed much.

"You really stand out, you know?"

Midorima picks up on this voice, but he doesn't move to answer. He figures it's directed at someone else, considering it's rare for anyone — especially strangers — to approach him with such bold statement.

"Shin-chan."

— Maybe it isn't a stranger.

He glances up, and his eyes meet with silvery blue ones. He pieces this bit of information with the facial expression and overall appearance. The man has a small nose and thin eyebrows; his hair is dark and parted down the middle, but the most distinguishable feature is his mouth. His lips are quirked upward, resembling a mixture of both a smile and a smirk. It's too nostalgic for his liking.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Midorima responds once he manages to work his mouth, "Takao."

"I work here." Takao slides into the seat opposite of his.

"How long?"

"Almost three months."

Midorima draws his hands away from the tabletop and folds his arms across his chest. He analyzes his company and finds that the only noticeable difference is that Takao has grown into a man. For some reason, this disappoints him.

"I see."

Here's Takao in flesh and blood. His expressions, his appearance, and his mannerisms scream the person he once knew — _once knew_, because now, he's just a stranger with a familiar name.

Midorima's hot in his seat. The sweater he has on is insulating too much heat, and he feels embarrassed. He wants to leave — disappear, possibly, but the thought of getting up and leaving is far-fetched.

Here's Takao in flesh and blood. Here's _the man he once loved_ in flesh and blood.

It's embarrassing, because he's sure that Takao can hear the pounding of his heart, see the reddening of his ears, and feel the rising excitement of this fated meeting. He's shocked, to say at the least. Of all places he can meet Takao, destiny has chosen this café as their place to reunite. Fate works in odd ways sometimes.

"Did you come here alone?" Takao leans forward, resting his arms on the table.

Midorima glances around to see if Himuro is anywhere in sight, but when there isn't a trace of him, he turns back to Takao. "I came with a classmate."

"A friend?"

"I suppose."

He picks on his sweater to allow air in, but it fails to work. Diverting his eyes, he glances at Takao's hands, and for a second, wishes that he's holding them. This thought, however, is quickly dismissed when Takao shifts.

"So how have you been?"

A lot has happened over the span of five years. After he started medical school, the life he knew — the one filled with joys of basketball and whatnot — was taken away and shoved into the corner of his mind. In fact, the information he had to retain crowded his memory to the point where he didn't — _couldn't_ — think of basketball (or Takao, for that matter). Factor in volunteering as an intern and studying for exams, and it's plausible to say that his head was consumed by school. But of course, Takao doesn't need to know the details.

"Well."

"Just well?"

"What were you expecting me to say?"

Takao leans back and laughs. "That's more like the Shin-chan I know!" A few strands of hair falls in front of his eyes, but he doesn't seem to take notice of this. "I was expecting ... ah, spectacular or dying? Something extreme." He flicks his wrist. "But Shin-chan is Shin-chan, so I should've expected a boring answer."

This eases the tension. Before, Midorima shied himself away from idle chit-chat simply because Takao seemed like a stranger, but now, after seeing that Takao really hasn't changed much, he feels more comfortable.

"How ... have you been?"

Despite asking this, Midorima doesn't want to know — at least, not really. He's sure that Takao has a lot to tell — meeting new people, experiencing new things. It's envy that separates Midorima from wanting an answer.

"I could be better, but I'm not complaining."

"Why is that?"

"Because you're here."

Sickly sweet.

_Just like Takao_.

Midorima sniffs. "You're ridiculous."

"Haven't I always been?"

He glances up briefly to meet Takao's eyes. Maybe Takao hasn't changed at all. Yes, years have done their duty on the other's appearance, but, if anything, maturity makes Takao more ... attractive.

"Where is your class —"

"Waiter!"

Takao's attention diverts to a table across the room. After motioning to them that he'll be right over, he turns to Midorima. "You want anything to drink?"

At this moment, Midorima doesn't. All he really wants is to talk with Takao more, but like always, he refrains from saying such. "Water's fine."

"All right. Be right back!" And so Takao leaves.

Midorima knows many things, but the one thing he's unsure of is why his heart is racing as fast as it is. Is it out of nervousness ... or something else? With five years under him, he thought he's over Takao, but that might not be the case. Seeing him here, breathing, well, and _beautiful_, Midorima can't help but fall for him again.

It's infuriating and disgusting, but subconsciously, he knows it's the reason why his heart is hammering against his chest.

As he recounts their first meeting in years, Himuro returns with Kagami and an appetizer. From looks alone, Midorima can see that the dish has taken some time to prepare; the design and overall appeal to it is one fit for a fancy restaurant. This in itself says a lot about Kagami, but he doesn't bother commenting on it.

"It's on me," Kagami says, setting the plate down. "Do you want a drink?"

Himuro peers up from picking at the appetizer. "I'll have coffee." He then looks at Midorima as if giving him permission to answer.

"Takao's getting me water."

"Actually, Takao got you oshiruko¹." Midorima's sights slide over to the waiter standing next to Kagami. "I figure you still like this stuff." He sets the can down. "This is a funny reunion, isn't it?"

And it is. Midorima never thought he would be in this position; yes, he had hoped to cross paths with Takao again, but he wasn't expecting to meet Kagami along the way, nevertheless Himuro (who he couldn't recall until the other reminded him that he was Murasakibara's partner). But the idea that Takao somehow connected himself to Kagami, and him to Himuro, is laughable. Fate really does work in strange ways, and this reunion is the sole proof of that.

"Thank you." Midorima leans over to open the can.

The sound of it opening is awkward among the silence that lingers, but he doesn't let it bother him. While Himuro tastes the appetizer, Midorima brings the can to his mouth and takes a sip. The oshiruko tastes sweeter than ever.

"I'll leave Takao to you guys." Kagami pats his waiter's shoulder before quickly dismissing himself from the strained atmosphere.

"He made me clean the entire café this morning," Takao reports, pulling out a small notebook and pen. "What would you like to have?"

Though Midorima hears the question, he doesn't fully interpret its meaning and goes on to ask about the first. "Why?"

Takao shrugs. "Something about his brother — you —" He nods at Himuro. "— coming over."

"It's just like Taiga to show off," Himuro comments with a joyous hum. "Can I get number six?"

"With or without fried rice?"

"With."

After scribbling down Himuro's order, Takao looks at Midorima. "And you?"

"I'll have the same without the rice."

Takao bobs his head as he writes this order down, and once that is done, he picks up the two menus and leaves with a promise to return with Himuro's coffee. Given that their waiter is out of earshot, Himuro leans forward.

"You're interested." It isn't a question, and this flusters Midorima. Had he been that obvious?

"I am not," he answers in a quipped manner, lifting the can of red bean soup to his lips once more.

Himuro isn't like most others; when given any sort of situation, he doesn't press the matter, and Midorima finds this amusing. His interpretation of someone from America has always been loud, rude, and obnoxious, but here, only Kagami lives up to that stereotype (then again, he can argue that the other's a little less obnoxious — but that's beside the case).

"All right. Whatever you say."

And the subject is dropped. Himuro doesn't continue to pressure him into answering, and the only reason for that resides in his observation. He knows — and Midorima knows that he knows — that Midorima and Takao have rekindled a connection.

— o —

**22 Jan 2012 ****—** 12h37 **— **Taiga's Cafe

He visits again.

It isn't a spur of the moment's decision — if anything, it is everything but that. For the last week, he had been debating on whether or not he should drop by Taiga's Cafe. The downside of visiting is the possibility of embarrassing himself; on the other hand, visiting may very well give him a chance to revive the relationship he had with Takao.

_Takao_.

It's been so long since he has thought of that name.

_Takao_.

He won't say that he's in love, but there's something about the other that makes him yearn for what they had.

Feelings aside, Midorima pursues fate. With the daily lucky item — a chess piece — in his hand, he opens the door to the café and steps in.

Takao isn't anywhere in sight. To the right are a handful of customers enjoying their Sunday morning with a cup of coffee; to his left is a family of five digging into breakfast. Ahead of him, behind the cash register, is an unfamiliar figure. She's a cute girl — petite, dimpled smile, long dark hair, but she isn't Takao. Disappointment scratches his surface, but nevertheless, he seats himself down at the bar next to the cash register.

"I'll have oshiruko."

"We don't serve that here."

Midorima blinks. He's certain that he had it last time —

_Oh_.

Takao must have known that he was visiting.

The sudden urge to see the other again overwhelms him. "Is Takao here?"

Her lips part slightly as she tilts her head. "Ah ... Takao-kun? He doesn't have a shift today."

"When is he on shift?"

There's a twinkle in her eye. "I think Monday through Saturday from two to six. Is it important? I can leave a message for him —"

"That'll be unnecessary. I'll have a glass of water."

"If that's what you insist." As she bustles off to fill his order, Midorima glances down at his watch.

He's much too early this time. If he wants to see Takao, he needs to come around two.

— o —

**03 Feb 2012 ****—** 14h40 **—** Taiga's Cafe

He tells himself that he's only passing by, and that he doesn't have any intentions to go in. _Really_, he doesn't — unless he happens to see Takao working, and well, today, it looks like Takao is working.

He reaches out to open the door and then hesitates. Maybe he's taking everything too fast — or, what if Takao doesn't want to see him at all? It's been five years since their separation, and Midorima can't be sure if the fire is still there. (Not that it really matters — he's only seeking friendship this time around, _right_?) Swallowing his pride, or what's left of it, he pulls the door open.

Despite it being a Friday afternoon, the café isn't as crowded. A few scatters of people surround the room, adding homeliness to the atmosphere, but other than that, they remain in the background. His attention focuses on the man who is peering at him half out of amusement and half out of joy. It's only when Midorima strides closer does that joy dissipate into full amusement.

"Hey," the man greets, tilting his head and allowing a few strands of hair to fall over his eyes.

Again, Midorima is tempted to brush them away, but instead, he simply takes a seat at the bar.

"What, I don't get a greeting? You're as cold as ever, Shin-chan," Takao huffs. "I didn't know you were coming today, so I didn't get any oshiruko."

"There's no need." Midorima shifts in his seat. "I'll have —" His eyes flicker to the menu overhead. "— green tea."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"Kagami's not a bad cook, you know."

That, Midorima can't deny. After feasting on his food two weeks ago, Midorima can say it's the best international food he's ever tasted. Given, he hasn't had a lot of food from outside of this country, but he can't deny the exquisite taste of Kagami's cuisine. And he supposes that that's something he should appreciate about the other.

"I already ate."

"So you came here just to see me?" The corner of Takao's mouth lifts into a generic smirk.

Out of habit, Midorima adjusts his glasses. "I'll have dumplings."

This response gets a chuckle out of Takao, who finally pushes himself off the counter. "Coming right up." He flashes Midorima a quick smile before disappearing to the back.

It's embarrassing in more ways than one. Here he is — a grown man of twenty-three — succumbing to the temptation he has promised to leave behind. What a fool he is.

Takao returns moments later with a glass of water, a plate of dumplings, and a pair of chopsticks. "Order up!" With one fell swoop, he places everything in front of Midorima. "Dig in."

And he does.

Picking up the chopsticks, Midorima glances over the dumplings piled on top of each other. As simple as they are, they emit a sense of beauty. This is the craft Kagami himself has invested in, and well, maybe this time he'll pay him a compliment. _Maybe_.

"Do you still believe in the Oha-Asa stuff?"

Since he's half-way through biting into a dumpling, Midorima peers up through his eyelashes. He holds his gaze for a moment before dropping it to chew and swallow. Once he finishes his bite, he tilts his chin up. "If you're going to tease me about it, don't bother."

Takao scoffs. "I'm just asking. No need to get worked up." He then props his elbow on the countertop and rests his cheek in the palm of his hand. "So do you?"

Midorima finishes the other half of the dumpling. "I do."

"What's the lucky item for today?"

On cue, Midorima reaches into his pockets and fishes out a key chain of a cartoon frog. "It's this." He places it down, and Takao immediately reaches for it. "Don't lose it."

"I won't." While he continues eating, he watches Takao dangle the key chain and examine it with entertained eyes. "It's cute." He hands it back. "What's Scorpio and Cancer's compatibility today?"

He doesn't remember hearing anything about their compatibility, but before he can saying "nothing," his mouth moves on its own accord. "Compatible." Perhaps he subconsciously remembers, after all.

Takao hums a stray note. Midorima's not sure if it is the sound of approval or skepticism, but he's willing to say both. Takao has never been one to believe in horoscopes — this, Midorima knows too well. But there have been times when fate proves its competence, and he strongly believes that it's fate that has brought him here.

"You haven't changed a lot," Takao says.

"Neither have you."

"You're still a stick in the mud."

Though he knows that's supposed to be taken offensively, Midorima can't help but smile to himself. "You're still annoying."

Takao tilts his head. "Do you really think so?"

"It's a fact." Sparing his company a pointed look, he lifts his glass of water and takes a sip.

"It's not a fact if it can't be proven."

"You're proving it right now."

Again, Takao huffs. "I'm only trying to make conversation, because Shin-chan —"

"Oi." The new voice diverts Midorima's attention. "Stop flirting." The man then glances at Midorima. "It's you."

"Is that how you greet your customers, Kagami?"

The owner of the café scoffs. "You're only here for Takao."

"Your dumplings are good," Midorima comments.

This, apparently, isn't what Kagami expected to hear. "What?"

"But it has a bit too much salt." That may or may not be a lie.

"Bas —"

"Kagami, they're watching," Takao hushes, eyes flickering over to the customers sitting a few spaces away.

"Right." Kagami shifts and averts his eyes for a second. "Th ... thanks, I guess." He nods once at Midorima before turning to Takao. "Get back to work."

"Yes, sir!" Enthusiastic as Takao appears, it's obvious that he doesn't want to move, but, as always, he does what he's told. As he slinks away, Midorima's focus reverts to the owner.

"You should give him your number," Kagami suggests, quirking an eyebrow at him. "He's been pestering me about calling Tatsuya and getting your number from him."

This, for some reason, doesn't really surprise Midorima, but it does excite him. If Takao's making such an effort to communicate with him, does that mean that he — ? It's possible. It's definitely possible, but he shouldn't get his hopes up too much. Least he knows, Takao might just want to rekindle their friendship and nothing more.

"I'll give it to him," he replies, finishing the last of the dumplings.

Seeing that he's done, Kagami picks up the empty plate. "Is it really that salty?"

"No, it's good."

"Are you just —" Kagami cuts himself off when Midorima peers up to meet his gaze. "Never mind. You're not the type to lie anyway. Do you want a refill?"

"I'm about to leave."

"I'll have Takao ring you up."

"All right."

While Kagami goes away, Midorima sits back and dwells on their conversation. Out of everyone he has met over the last five years (which isn't many, but still a few), Kagami has been the one who has changed the most in terms of maturity and occupation. With a talent in basketball like his, Midorima didn't expect him to start a café — where he got his cooking skills from is an even better question. But he isn't complaining; the food's good, and Kagami doesn't appear all that miserable.

"I'm back! Did you miss me?" Takao swoops in to pick up the empty cup.

"Don't bother," Midorima says, getting up from his seat. "I should be heading off."

Though the cheerful expression on Takao's face falters slightly, Midorima can still read the disappointment.

"Already?"

Midorima shuffles through his wallet to remove a few bills. "I have a class in an hour."

"Oh." There's a hesitant pause as Midorima hands the payment over. "Will you visit again?"

_Of course_, Midorima wants to say, but pride has a tight grip on his tongue. "I'll try. Can I see your notepad?"

Takao hands it to him. "I work Monday through Saturday from two to six."

"I know," Midorima says, scribbling down a few digits onto the pad before handing it back.

"Wait. How do you know?"

Realizing his mistake, Midorima quickly covers it with another topic. "Are you free Saturday?"

Fortunately, Takao takes the new subject bait. "After work, I should be."

"Do you ..." He clears his throat and tries his best to suppress the flush in his cheeks. "Would you like to ..." Why is this difficult? It's only _Takao_.

"Are you asking me out to dinner?" The grin is back.

"Shut up."

Takao laughs. "Still a tsundere, I see. But yeah, I'd like to. What place and time?"

His mind goes blank. Of all times he needs an answer, his brain decides to fail him now. Takao, luckily (or maybe unluckily depending on how he looks at it), picks up on this.

"I know a restaurant nearby that we can go to. Just come here around six, and we'll walk there. Sounds good?"

_Sounds great_.

"That's fine."

Again, Takao smiles, and again, Midorima's heart flutters.

"I'll see you then."

Midorima gives a jerky nod. "Yeah, until then." He eyes fall on the bills in the other's hand. "Keep the change." And with that, he turns and makes his way out of the café — quickly — so that he doesn't embarrass himself any further.

As he steps outside, he realizes that everything seems brighter. The sky is bluer; the grass is greener. People are smiling, and the atmosphere is wonderful.

Today's a good day.

* * *

¹ red bean soup (in a can)


	3. Chapter 02

**Warning:** n/a  
**Disclaimer:** nope  
**Notes:** dark chocolate helps relieve stress

* * *

二

* * *

**30 Dec 2012 — Takao's Reflection**

_I grew up in a great household._

_My parents showered me with love and spoiled me rotten._

_We were the perfect family._

* * *

**04 Feb 2012 — 18h03 — Taiga's Café**

Clean the tables.

Wipe the floors.

Wash the restrooms (this, he dreads most).

Closing the café is routine; he works outside, and Kagami works in the kitchen. It's usually not difficult, but with Midorima sitting at the counter, waiting for him to finish, it's hard for him to focus.

Ten minutes before closing, Midorima walked in and sat down. He was, as always, early. And of course, at that time, Takao was tidying up the place. His rushed hands were met with anxiousness as he hurried to complete the task, but unfortunately, washing the restrooms proved to be time-consuming.

When he _finally_ slips out of his apron and hangs it up, Midorima's gaze falls from the clock above the door to him. With one glimpse, he indicates that he's ready to move — that he has _been_ ready.

Not wasting any more seconds, Takao dips his head into the kitchen, tells Kagami that he's heading out, and with a goodbye, turns his attention back to Midorima. "Ready?"

"I wouldn't be here if I'm not."

Midorima hasn't changed much; when it comes to anything involving self-fulfillment, he always has a tendency to answer indirectly. It's a quirk Takao finds cute. Really cute.

"Come on, let's go."

— o —

**04 Feb 2012 — 18h17 — Piacere's**

Ranked top ten in the city for international (namely Italian) cuisine, and number three in atmosphere and service, Piacere's is bustling with activity. Those of all ages are scattered among the many tables; some are in pairs, others in groups. Chatter thrives underneath the dimmed lights, and the sound of silverware clinking against the dishware only adds to the soothing piano music.

Takao has always liked this place. It's not because of the food or the atmosphere — although, those two do play a major role in his pleasant experiences here — but rather, the layout. Anyone who steps in for a second and looks around can see the work put into the decorations. Chandeliers with small crystals hanging in every direction extend over three sections of the dining area. Gentle lit lamps customized for the restaurant adorn the wall, providing a lovely glow against every guest's face. The furniture itself is praise-worthy. Beautifully carved chairs sit along the refined tables; couches and sofas line the two corners, and coffee tables made of tinted blue glass lay in between.

The addition he favors most is the lookout. One of Piacere's walls is pure glass; in the morning, it's nothing special, but when night falls and city lights come on, it's breathtaking. If he had the money, he'd dine here every night, but since he doesn't have more than a few thousand yen to spend, Piacere's is only for special occasions.

And this is definitely a special occasion.

"Table for two."

"Got a new one already?" The host — _Ryo_, Takao remembers — grins at him before grabbing two menus and leading them toward a table next to the window. "They keep getting bigger and bigger."

Takao's lips quirk into an amused smile. "This one's a keeper."

Ryo chuckles and pulls out the chairs for both of them. "Let's hope so." When they're situated, he places a basket of fresh-baked rolls on the table. "Shall we start on drinks and appetizers?" He clasps his hands together and looks between the two.

"You want anything?" Takao peers over at Midorima who's flipping through the menu.

"Just water," Midorima orders without glancing up.

"I'll have a Coke and the cheese and pepperoni dip."

As the host scribbles down the order, he asks, "So, what's his name?"

Takao leans on the palm of his hand. "Midorima Shintarou." Though he's mentioned, Midorima doesn't look up to acknowledge the topic of conversation. "We went to high school together."

"Huh, isn't that something. Well, hope it works out this time." Ryo pats his shoulder. "I'll give Miko this order and be back with your drinks." After a quick word of thanks from Takao, the other ushers off.

"That's Ryo," Takao says, reaching for another breadstick. "He's actually the one who told me about this restaurant."

"You come here often?" Midorima lays the menu down and picks up a breadstick.

"As much as I can, but, y'know, money's tight. I can't always afford eating here." He glances out the window. "This is my usual table, though. Ryo knows that much." His eyes find Midorima's, and a gentle smile works its way onto his lips. "How do you like it so far?"

"It's nice."

Takao hums in agreement. "I love it here." Absent-mindedly, he wipes his fingers on the towel while peering out into the city. "I would've never thought that I would be here with you." Though his eyes stray on the flashing advertisements, his attention stays on Midorima, and he wonders for the briefest moment what the other is thinking. Takao prides himself in knowing Midorima well enough to read his expressions, but after five years of being out of practice, he finds himself trying to analyze a stoic look. "You never called me." He looks at his company, but Midorima continues gazing out the window.

"I had no reason to."

Takao's grip tightens around the towel.

"You didn't contact me either." Midorima glances over and catches Takao's eyes; the connection holds for a second.

"I thought it would be better if I didn't." _Because if I'd heard your voice, I would start missing you_.

They both saw the break up coming. Takao just didn't account how much it actually hurt him. He had grown attached to his partner, and that attachment bloomed into infatuation. A year was not enough. He wanted to continue on, to hold Midorima's hand and support him through. He wanted to be there for him as a tissue, as a _pillar_. But all his wants faded into wishes when graduation came. They parted, and that was it.

"You still have the same number." A soft smile eases its way onto Takao's expression. "The one you gave me yesterday matched the one on my phone."

Midorima quirks an eyebrow. "You still have the same phone?"

"Nah," Takao leans back in his seat. "I got a new one, but I transferred all the numbers over." That's _half_-true; he only transferred the numbers of those he spoke to and those he _wanted_ to speak to.

"A water and a Coke." The sound of Ryo's voice draws Takao from nostalgia. "Anything else you two need?"

Takao shares a look with Midorima before shaking his head. "Nope, that'll be all."

"If you need something, just give me a ring, all right?"

When he's out of earshot, Takao turns back. "So," he begins, "what have you been doing for the past five years?"

Midorima doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he takes his time to wipe his fingers on his towel and sip water. Takao opens his mouth to repeat his question — just in case the other didn't hear — but before he can, Midorima replies, "I've recently begun practicing medicine."

"How many more years of training do you have to go through before getting certified?"

"Three. I took courses over the summer to get ahead."

Takao laughs. "Shin-chan's really smart. I'm jealous." He has always been jealous of him. Midorima's born perfect; he's intelligent, he's talented, he's rich — he has everything. Back when they were together, he used to laugh at how ironic it was for someone of such a high rank to be with someone so low. It's not that he considered himself low — he was fairly smart, he had talent, and his family had enough money to send him to Shuutoku — it was just that Midorima was beyond his reach.

Was.

_Is_.

The path they now pursue are on opposite ends of the spectrum. Here, he's a waiter at a café, making a couple of thousand yen each day. And then there's Midorima, a doctor in training, who will probably end up holding true to his family name.

It's still funny that Midorima's here with him.

"What are you laughing at?"

Takao bats the air as he tries to stifle his giggles. "Nothing. It's nothing." Once he catches his breath, he's met with Midorima's distasteful glare. "Sorry, sorry." He slouches back into his seat.

Midorima ignores the apology. "What about you?" he asks.

"Ah, me?" Takao shifts again. "Well, I played basketball with Kagami and Kasamatsu for two years, and then I took up journalism. I did that for a bit, then graduated and worked for the newspaper. My boss was prissy and uptight, so when I didn't meet the deadline for the second time, she fired me. Fortunately for me, Kagami was opening a café at the time, and I was offered a spot." He pauses to thank Miko, their waitress, for the appetizer, but she doesn't go away.

"Are you ready to order?" She flips to a blank page on her notepad.

"I'll have the Shrimp Scampi¹," Takao orders while mindlessly dipping a piece of flatbread into the cheese and pepperoni mix.

"Veal Parmesan², thank you." Midorima folds up the menu and hands it to her. Takao mirrors this movement.

"Will that be all?"

"Yes."

As the waitress moves away, Midorima begins picking at the flatbread. Though Takao's five years out of practice, he can still tell _when_ Midorima's thinking, but like before, he's oblivious to _what_ the other is thinking about. Silent, Takao stuffs the bread into his mouth and waits for his company to strike up a conversation. When this doesn't happen, he finds himself taking the initiative once more.

"What's on your mind?"

Midorima's looks up from the flatbread between his fingers. "Nothing." He leans over a little to sample the dip.

"I'll answer anything you ask."

"I didn't have a question."

Takao's hand pauses over the dip. His eyebrow raises.

Midorima avoids his steady gaze. "What did the host — Ryo — mean when he said 'another one'?"

"Oh." Takao lifts the flatbread back into his mouth, and after taking a bite, chewing, and swallowing, he replies, "This is my go-to restaurant for dates." It isn't the only place he goes to — eating out at the same restaurant can get boring sometimes, even if it's Piacere's — but it's his preferred choice. The harmonic piano music proves to ease tense shoulders, and the relaxing atmosphere dismisses worry. Here, he can sit back and chat, and he loves doing that.

"I didn't know."

"Hm?"

"That you're dating someone."

Takao glances up at Midorima, who appears to be on the edge of his seat and prepared to excuse himself. "I'm not dating anyone at the moment." He pauses, then continues to say, "Unless you consider this a date."

Midorima stiffens and draws his sights to the city lights. "One date isn't enough to determine that."

"How many dates do we need to go on before you consider us dating?" He leans in and rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

Midorima murmurs something.

"What was that?"

His company repeats himself, this time a little louder.

"Two."

_Two_.

Takao sits back with a satisfied smile. "That can be arranged."

Midorima meets his gaze for a moment and then diverts his attention to the cheese and pepperoni dip. "You mentioned having other —" He clears his throat. "— partners."

It's a subject Takao has always avoided on dates. Before, he didn't mind chatting about his previous partners, but when one in particular threw a fit over such innocent topic, he never mentioned it again. The only difference here is that Midorima initiated the conversation, and not wanting to be rude, Takao follows up, "I have."

As he lifts the glass of soda to his lips, he watches Midorima's perplexing expression. There's a furrow of the eyebrows, but other than that, there are no signs of dissent. To Takao, this is a good and bad thing. It's good, because he likes being unrestricted; it's bad, because he can't exactly tell if Midorima's asking out of manners or out of curiosity.

"How about you?" Takao sets the glass back down and goes for another breadstick.

Midorima, on the other hand, folds his fingers together and remains still. "I didn't have the time."

"Implying that you made time for me?" He doesn't expect a physiological response from his date, but when he focuses on Midorima's face, he can't help but notice the slight flush in the other's cheeks, and it's _definitely_ not from the spice in the dip (if he remembers correctly, Midorima's good with spicy foods). "You know," Takao continues, tossing a piece of bread into his mouth, "you're not really open with me. How long have we've known each other?" He swallows and takes a sip of his Coke. "Seven, eight years? I know you well enough, so don't hold what you want to say back."

Midorima reaches up to adjust his glasses — out of habit, perhaps, since they haven't slipped yet. "If you know me well enough, then it's unnecessary for me to say everything."

"Don't be stubborn."

"I'm only reiterating what you said."

_Wiseass_.

Conversation falls silent as Takao struggles to retaliate. Fortunately for him, Midorima picks up on the cue. "Tell me about them."

_Out of curiosity, then_, Takao decides.

"What do you want to know?"

Midorima reaches for the last breadstick, then pauses to look up at him. When Takao indicates that he doesn't want it, Midorima helps himself to half of it. "Anything you want to tell."

Takao taps his chin for a moment. There's a lot to talk about, considering each of his dates had quirks of their own. He remembers taking a girl out — she's the second person he had ever dated. "Her name's Amelia." And she was breathtaking. Her golden locks were her most prized possession; he can't recall her going five minutes without touching her hair (mindlessly, most of the time). "She was from America — a state called Ohio, I think." He remembers her laughing every time he said it. Even though he didn't hear a difference, she insisted that he was pronouncing it wrong. "Apparently the name comes from an Indian tribe, not our 'good morning'."

"It's _Ohio_," Midorima says. "The pitch is lower on the last syllable."

"But it sounds the same!" Takao turns to the couple sitting at the table next to them. "Don't _Ohio_ and _ohayo_ sound the same?"

The two strangers share a look then shrug. "It sounds the same how you're saying it," the woman replies.

"See!"

Midorima sighs, and Takao _knows_ he's tempted to roll his eyes. "It sounds the same, because you're not pronouncing _Ohio_ correctly."

"It's your accent!"

"It's not due to my accent."

"Yes, it is!"

Takao rips off a piece of the breadstick and stuffs it in his mouth whilst Midorima takes a long sip of his water. When they're over their childish dispute, Midorima speaks up, "How did ... how did it end?"

"She decided to finish college back in her country. Long-distance wasn't really her thing." When she told him this over a cup of coffee, his heart shattered for a second time, but once the day of her departure arrived, he came to accept her decision. It was, after all, for her future, and not to mention, if they were thousands of miles away, he wouldn't be able to hold up a relationship either. He needed the _connection_, and distance didn't allow that. So he let her go, and that was that. "We were in touch for awhile, and a year later, she told me she found someone else. Yeah, I was disappointed, but hey, she's happy."

"I'm sorry."

Hearing Midorima's pitiful attempt at consolation, Takao laughs. "Don't be. It's not like she died or anything. We just lost contact, but I'm still expecting a wedding invitation sometime soon." He gives another chuckle, but it fades fairly quickly. "I dated Kasamatsu for awhile — y'know, the point guard from Kaijou? Kise's senpai?" He sees Midorima's expression twist into one of recognition. "It didn't really work out, since we wanted different things from each other." Kasamatsu needed space, and he needed security. Their interaction was great, the sex even better, but there wasn't a spark. They were just lovers that didn't exactly love. "But he taught me how to play the guitar, so that's something I took out of the relationship."

"Do you still play?"

Takao manages a half-hearted shrug. "Not as much as I did. I mean, I still have his old guitar lying around in my apartment. I just haven't had the time to pick it up." His lashes flicker. "Do you still play the piano?" Midorima played for him once; he can't recall the tune, but he knows it was beautiful (anything rooting from Midorima's fingertips is beautiful, actually).

"At times."

"You should play for me again."

"I'll consider it."

The waitress drops by with their order, and after graciously refilling their drinks, leaves them be. Conversation ceases again as Takao begins feasting. Opposite of his eagerness is Midorima's calm and collected mannerism. He first examines the dish, then, with delicacy and precision, picks up the fork and samples the sauce. It appears to suit his taste, since, as far as Takao can see, Midorima doesn't outright reject it.

"How is it?" Takao asks, nodding at Midorima's pasta.

"This is the first time I've had Italian."

Oh. In that case — "We're coming here more often, then. Try this." He extends a piece of shrimp over. At first, Midorima looks skeptical, only observing, but as Takao begins prodding his lips, he opens his mouth and accepts the offering.

"It's good," he compliments. "Different, but good."

"It's one of my favorite dishes. I love the seasoning they use." Takao leans down to catch the noodles falling off of his fork. "I tried making this at home, but it wasn't the same. It's like I'm missing something."

There's silence again, but this time, the air is strain-free.

Without a topic to discuss, Takao finds himself following Midorima's hand movements. The first thing he notices is that Midorima's using his left hand — which happens to be untaped, yet in perfect condition. He once adored that hand and those fingers (and perhaps he still does). Like Amelia's hair, Midorima's left hand is what he treasures most. It's that hand that led Shuutoku to victory; it's that hand that gave Midorima a title he deserved; and it's that hand that Takao kissed when they said their goodbyes at graduation.

"Tell me more."

Drawing out of his thoughts, Takao blinks. "Huh?"

"About your previous partners."

"Oh, right." Where is he? He talked about Amelia and Kasamatsu — "I dated this guy I met when I worked for the newspaper. He was really pushy, but he had this ... fearless personality that I liked. He actually asked me out in front of our co-workers." It was embarrassing, but at the same time, Takao liked the attention. "The only reason we didn't work out was because he's ... well, flashy."

Midorima stills. "As in?"

"He doesn't have a filter, so it's not unusual for me to walk in every morning and hear him talk — loudly — about our sex life."

Upon hearing this, Midorima's brow wrinkles. "I see."

"So I broke it off with him."

"How did he respond to that?"

A nervous laugh escapes Takao. "He blew up in the office, but he got over it a week later when a new recruit showed up. I felt bad for that kid, since he pretty much went through the same thing I did. Then again, both of their egos were big, so they seemed like a nice fit for each other." He takes a sip of his Coke. "After that, I went on a few dates with others, but none developed into relationships. That's about the highlight of my love life."

It isn't a bad love life. There were some heartbreaks and shattered hope, but other than that, he doesn't feel as if he's missing out. Being in love is great — anyone can side with this comment — but loving another is greater. He likes to feel wanted, and in every relationship he had, his partner made him feel special — as if he had a purpose.

"You got around," Midorima comments.

"I'm still looking for the one." _I'm still looking _at_ the one_.

Years of being apart didn't diminish his feelings. They've been suppressed, but to go extinct? Improbable. Midorima was the first person he completely opened his heart to. No matter how much he wanted to forget their relationship and their breakup, he _couldn't_. The experience was engraved into his memory, and seeing Midorima after all this time brings back every emotion.

Nervousness.

Happiness.

Sadness, disappointment, _longing_ —

He wants to erase their ending and start anew.

And the first step to that process is this date.

— o —

**04 Feb 2012 — 19h22 — on the way back to Takao's apartment**

"You didn't have to walk me home," Takao says, even though it's apparent that he wants more of Midorima's company.

"You're making assumptions. I'm only walking with you, because my dorm is this way."

Takao turns to look at him. "Isn't it a long walk?"

"I don't mind the exercise."

He can't say that Midorima's necessarily lying, but he knows that he's not telling the truth either. There isn't, of course, a foolproof indication that the other is fibbing through his teeth, but honestly, Midorima's willingness to walk home with him says something. Or at least, Takao's sure it means something.

With a hum vibrating from his throat, Takao doesn't press the matter. The last thing he wants is to chase Midorima away with his accusations (if they are even accusations in the first place). Not to mention, he likes the quiet. Though they have a lot more to talk about (which is surprising, considering how much they've discussed over dinner), neither speaks, and he's not certain if it's because Midorima's waiting for him to spark a conversation or if he prefers the silence. Knowing him, it's probably the latter.

They pass Taiga's Café.

Then, they arrive at Takao's apartment.

Since a word hasn't been uttered in the last fifteen minutes, Takao's hesitant to disturb the peace that had settled in between them. He slows in his step, and when he stops, Midorima follows suit.

"Here it is." He turns to his date and flashes him a smile. "Do you want to come in?"

Midorima's eyes find his. "I should head home. It's late."

Though this weighs down his excitement, Takao doesn't let it alter his expression. "Next time then!" He shifts in his step. "I had a great time. We should definitely do this again."

"I'll consider."

Takao laughs. "That means _yes_, right?" Of course, it means yes. Takao can read that well enough.

Midorima clears his throat and averts his gaze. "Good night, Takao." He says this, but his body doesn't move.

"G'night, Shin-chan." He leans slightly to the right in hopes of meeting Midorima's eyes. This proves futile. "Are you waiting for a kiss?" His words aim to tease, but the hint of sincerity is much too clear. When Midorima remains frozen, gaze still glued to the ground, Takao reaches over and cups his cheeks. Upon contact, Midorima's lids flicker, and their eyes meet.

His thumb gently grazes the soft cheek as he cradles the head and leans closer. "Don't worry," Takao murmurs, peering down at the lips that seemingly yearn for attention and comfort. "I won't disappoint." When resistance is nonexistent, he closes the space between them.

It's a short kiss — one where mouths tentatively brush. Their breaths, however, are taken away, and waves of desire wash over them. Hearts race, and fingers sprawl, but they don't explore.

Takao, though wanting more, resists the looming lust. He steps back and draws his hands to his side. "Good night." With a light smile that promises future pleasures, he heads up the stairs.

As he proceeds upward, his ears perk to the sound of Midorima's fading footsteps. Arriving at the top, Takao peers over the balcony. Coincidentally (or not), Midorima happens to turn around at that moment and search for him. When eye meets eye, Takao waves, and Midorima pretends to not see it.

They turn away.

And Takao looks back.

Midorima is walking down the direction they came from, and this little thought makes his heart skip.

Maybe the infatuation they shared never faded.

Maybe it got stronger with time and distance.

* * *

¹ pasta dish consisting on garlic and butter shrimp; served with noodles

² sauteed veal cutlet, topped with mozzarella cheese and tomato sauce


End file.
